“Thanks for the ride.” Wynter flashed Michael a mischievous smirk and slammed his car door, rattling the leather console.

She was going to pay for that. No one fucked with his baby…and by baby, he meant the Porsche 918 Spyder that purred underneath him.

Wynter tucked one of those fucking swans under her arm as she sauntered into the hotel lobby. She said you could attract more men with a swan than honey. “Don’t wait up!” She blew him an obnoxious kiss and waved good-bye as her luscious hips swayed from side to side. She was on a mission and as Michael wanted to stop her, he couldn’t.

Michael growled. Damn foolish woman is going to banish all to Hades.

“May I park your car, sir?” The valet saddled up to his Porsche, licking his lips in anticipation.

Yeah, right, you little pimply-faced kid. Like I’m gonna let you spin out the tires of my million dollar sports car.

Michael gazed out the passenger side window and watched helplessly as Wynter disappeared into the mass of half-naked men inside. What the fuck? Was there a stripper convention at this hotel? The men parted like melted butter and stared at her backside as she waltzed through the crowd. She was good. Too good. Fuck.

“Fine,” he growled through gritted teeth at the valet.

He stumbled back as if Michael had struck him.

Michael shoved the car door and held it open for the twerp but stepped in front of him before allowing him inside his precious baby. His massive body towered over the boy’s small frame. “If there is one scratch on this motherfucker, one teensy, tiny scratch when I get it back, I’ll rip your head off, shit down your neck and feed you to the fucking swans at my girlfriend’s house. Got it?”

Wait, what? Girlfriend? What the fuck? Did he just call Wynter his girlfriend? He hadn’t had a partner, a girlfriend, hell, a wife for that matter, in over two hundred years. If Wynter fucked this assignment up, that would all change though.

“Y-yes, sir,” the boy stuttered. “N-not a scratch.”

The poor kid sounded like a bumbling fool. Maybe Michael should put him on his payroll. He laughed at the lunacy.

Michael watched as the valet slid into the driver’s seat and drove away at a snail’s pace. Good boy. At least he wouldn’t have to cast a spell that kept the kid’s pecker limp for the rest of his life.

With a heavy sigh, Michael waltzed through the hotel doors, not surprised to see a flock of men around Wynter. They looked like the squawking birds in her back yard.

Girlfriend.Michael laughed to himself. Wynter was nothing more than a piece of ass, a mission. She could have all the men she wanted as long as she found the perfect one before Christmas.

As if sensing his presence, Wynter’s gaze caught his. One side of her plump lips curled into a delicious smirk.

Mission. Mission. He reminded himself. She’s just a mission. A means to an end…your end if you fuck this up.

Suddenly the shrill sound of women screaming came from behind him.

Michael turned on his heels.

Not one, not two but…wait…Was that eightfucking chicks flooding out of the elevator? Their screams echoed through the hotel as if their hair extensions were on fire. They were dressed the same, in hotel uniforms marking them as maids.

“A Dios, mio!” one shouted.

“Help! Help!” A pixie minx with red hair slammed into him. “Get it out of here!” She pointed back toward the elevator.

“What’s going on?” One of the strippers who’d been enthralled by Wynter saddled up to him.

He eyeballed the guy up and down, his menacing gaze obviously speaking volumes as the stripper stepped away.

He pushed the maid away and gazed down into her blue eyes. “What’s going on?”

“It’s a…”

“Yes?” he asked.

“Mierda es un reno!” a Hispanic woman screamed, jumping up and down, her hands slapping against her hips.

“Did you say moose?” His Spanish was rusty, but he was pretty sure that was the translation.

“No! Es un reno! Salga de aquí!”

“Holy, hell,” Wynter whispered next to him. “Is that a fucking reindeer?”

“Yes.” The redhead nodded, her body trembling. “And the man in the ivory suit asked if we wanted to ‘milk his reindeer.’” She used air quotes. “He made it sound–” Her eyes darted between Wynter and him as she leaned in closer. “–sexual,” she whispered.

“Kris Kringle,” he and Wynter said in unison.

Eight maids a’ milking.

That motherfucker was the biggest practical jokester Michael had ever met. “Enough with the symbolism, Kris,” he moaned.

“Ho, ho, ho!” Kris’s robust voice echoed through the lobby as he led the reindeer through the posh hotel like it was an everyday occurrence. “I didn’t mean you’re a whore, Wynter.” Kris laughed as he nudged my arm. “Although you have been on my naughty list for quite some time.” His white eyebrows waggled as he ogled Wynter.

Michael wanted to punch him in the nuts. Kids may adore him, but Kris Kringle was the biggest man whore on the face of the earth.

The reindeer picked that moment to lay a massive Christmas “gift” on the imported Italian tile floor.

“Ewww!” everyone groaned.

“Word in the Underworld is that you’re looking for the perfect man, Wynter.” Kris smirked and held out his arms. “Here I am.”

Juliette Portland had all of those things. Her purpose was simple: Seduce. Deceive. Kill. Avenge. Once Dornan Ross and his sons were dead, her future was supposed to be clear. Her life was finally going to begin. And love… Against all the odds, she had the love of a boy she never thought she’d see again.

Everything should have gone according to plan. Everything should have been easy once Dornan was dead and buried.

Of course, life has a way of fucking with even the most meticulous of plans, and calling in owed debts can have the most severe consequences. Thanks to Juliette’s diabolical retribution, the Il Sangue Cartel has lost it’s Kingpin, but not for long. There’s always someone in the wings, ready to step onstage and seize power. The Gypsy Brothers Motorcycle Club might be reeling from the deaths of their President and his six patch-wearing sons, but they’ve come back swinging.

Two deadly enemies, hundreds of bloodthirsty members, both sides eager to punish those that would try to topple them.

Two survivors, a man and a woman, forced to flee in the night.

For Juliette, vengeance is a hollow victory.

It never, ever ends.

The flames of incomplete vengeance are licking at her heels, and it’s only a matter of time before the Il Sangue cartel and the Gypsy Brothers catch her in their grip and crush her.

Unless she crushes them first.

It’s no secret that I have loved the Gypsy Brother MC series since the very first glimpse of the darkness, death and disturbing scenes that this series has given us. Revenge is at times bittersweet, what happens once you found your revenge but still haven’t been able to find that peace you hoped it would bring? Especially when that peace also consists of you still running, only this time from the Cartel. Juliette and Jase have been through so much already, if you know this series you know exactly what I am talking about, so will they be able to keep their relationship together through even more? These are all questions you ask while reading Zero Hour.

In true Lili St. Germain form, be prepared for your mind to be fucked with, to reach into that dark scary place inside of your soul that holds those dark thoughts and feeds those disturbing thoughts that only this series can bring. This has been a series that has stayed consistent from beginning to end, every book has been one that I know I won’t forget anytime soon. If you haven’t already read this series and are a fan of a dark romance then add this to your TBR list, if you read everything up until Zero Hour make sure you read the final book you won’t be disappointed.

I don’t even stop to see what kind of furniture the room consists of. I throw Juliette on the floor and pounce on her like I’m a lion and she’s my catch.

My dick’s inside her within three seconds of the door closing, even though its dark in here, the only light from a couple of candles throwing off weak light. It could be the middle of the day and I wouldn’t have a clue, because all I can see is Juliette Portland underneath me, her legs spread and her pussy full of me. I put my hands around her neck. I want to squeeze. I want to choke her so fucking badly. Goddamn it! I stop grinding my cock into her. I just stop.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I whisper in the dark. “Julz, the things I used to do in this place—I used to hurt people and get off on it. I don’t want to hurt you, baby.”

She reaches up and grabs hold of my face; I can just make out her eyes, her pupils almost swallowing any trace of green.

“Jase,” she breathes, “What if I want you to hurt me?”

Lili writes dark romance, suspense and paranormal stories. Her serial novel, Seven Sons, was released in early 2014, with the following books in the series to be released in quick succession. Lili quit corporate life to focus on writing and so far is loving every minute of it. Her other loves in life include her gorgeous husband and beautiful daughter, good coffee, Tarantino movies and spending hours on Pinterest.